


lose yourself inside the city (lose your mind inside a week)

by Starful_nights



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Battery City, Brainwashing, Gen, alberts an oc btw, baby's first clap, crows>exterminators>dracs in terms of power, escaping batt city time, feat a short and kinda bad poem by urs truly, im one of cherris worst ghostwriters yet but he was like 15 so its ok, kind of, the pills are The Medication, um, you can kind of guess where this is going from the gary levko tag huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starful_nights/pseuds/Starful_nights
Summary: Albert Levko liked the City. He liked his job. Even if he missed Before, occasionally, it didn't matter, right?That is, until an old face bursts back into his life, bringing colour and doubts and memories of cherry coke and sunsets.
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola & Albert Levko, Agent Cherri Cola & Show Pony (Danger Days), Agent Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Garfield Levko & Albert Levko, im not adding gary just bc i can
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	lose yourself inside the city (lose your mind inside a week)

**Author's Note:**

> guess who just wrote a fic longer than the amount of words i have of my current wip !
> 
> anyways enjoy this mess i will protect albert with my Life, same goes for garfie. idiot brothers <3
> 
> fun fact: temporary title was "another fake strawberries and cigarettes title but with cherry coke and no romance"

Albert Levko liked the City. It was pretty. (A lot of the pretty came from his careful designation of the places where streets lay, but he wasn’t one to give in to his ego.) He had to admit having barely any colour was a lot more boring when you weren’t on the Medication--important creators weren’t allowed to have their judgement clouded with its side effects--and didn’t develop total colorblindness, but it let him work without dealing with color theory, something he always hated. Still, he didn’t miss Before that much. After all, he created so much of this new City, it would’ve been foolish. 

(Then again, maybe you were allowed to be foolish every once in a while.)

Albert shook his head and got back to work. There was a surprising amount of designing to do on the strategic placement of parks, streets and storeys on buildings in the new District, just reaching into East Zone One to provide happiness to as many people as Albert could. He absently took another stick of Focusers. The taste of the gum slowly spread in his mouth and he could feel his senses returning to its usual state. This was a dangerous food item, if you messed up your focus, who knows what your attention might turn to, but he needed the focus right now. Anyways, he knew Maria, who created this specific prototype--it wasn’t out to the public yet--and he trusted her. For the most part.

More importantly, he trusted the Director, and the Company.

He was interrupted two hours later by an Exterminator (sans the face mask, luckily, not that there were any facial expressions they would convey due to professionalism and the Medication) clearing their throat really loudly next to him. He stifled a sigh. He didn’t have the time to deal with whatever mistake another idiot Junior Designer he was the superior to for some reason made. For the third time this week. He was seriously considering slipping some Calming Syrup into their tea. He wouldn’t, of course, because he was a law-abiding Citizen, but he was considering it. 

Damn Focuser side effects, probably.

He had to tell Maria about it.

“Yes?” he asked, with way more annoyance that he probably should have.

The Exterminator shot him a resentful look. Huh. Looks like someone needed another Medication dose, he thought grimly. Negative emotions galore.

“S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Flare wishes to see you. New recruit, name of Cherri Cola. Says the guy’s been asking about you.”

Albert froze. 

Cherry was his favourite taste back when he was a teen and Coke was still a thing. It was his brother’s too. They’d drink it together, watching the sun--oh, the sun, how he missed it--set, talking, maybe sharing a cigarette or two in secret, occasionally with whoever their current girlfriends or boyfriends were. (rare moments, the rooftop wasn’t a place they shared with just anyone, and ‘I wouldn’t take him to the rooftop’ was a common cause of breakups at the Levkos’). The taste of fake chery was almost in his mouth, the fizz, the smell, the sweetness, all of it. 

Could it be?

No, he couldn’t deal with this right now. He had deadlines and work, and a meeting with Maria and then one with Judy and he had to talk to the advert team and he wanted to take up a smaller job at the Emote-Committee as well, and he just couldn’t, not no. Get a grip, Levko, he thought firmly, and pushed those memories away the same way he always did since he became Chief Designer.

He looked up at the Exterminator still waiting, and forced a smile. He was really good at that. Maybe he should look into the new Mask-Face Gum Maria and Olive were designing in their free time, for non-Medicationers only. 

“I need to get the blueprint of the new expansion out by Sixday. Tell Flare I will see this Cherri Cola tomorrow.”

The Exterminator started to say something, probably about the urgency of this--and didn’t Abert just want to run down to Flare, however much he hated her, and shake her until she told Albert if it really was his little Garfield they brought in, but he couldn’t, he had to do this--but then they thought better of it, saluted and walked out. 

Albert put his face in his hands. He had a nice big office, no cubicles--finally--a personal friendship with the Director, and an important job in building a better future. Throwing all that away for the memory of cherry coke and weird limited edition Pringles? Not worth it. 

(Maybe he would have wondered why he immediately thought the memories were a fireable offense, and the fact that the higher-up workers were the only ones with a strong enough ideology as to not need the Medication or memory removers, had the circumstances been different. Maybe he should have wondered. Maybe he should escape to the sunsets and cherry cokes.) Maybe he needed to take the Medication too.

He sighed and took another stick of Focusers. 

Damn it all.

Albert’s alarm clock managed to wake him up in just the wrong sleep stage. Faulty thing. (Definitely not because he stayed awake a lot later, thinking.)

His coffee with his breakfast wasn’t bitter enough, coffee was never bitter anymore, it was boring and drinking pure caffeine dissolved in water would’ve been more pleasant than this sweet sludge next to the memory of the bitterness of his morning coffee Before, with his brother wearing something ridiculously old-fashioned over a crop top and slurping something similarly overcaffeinated but also ridiculously sugary, writing poetry about explosions and the neon eyes of whoever he was crushing on at the time, and he’d smile at Albert and damn, he loved that kid...that kid who would never hurt a fly who was given a gun at twenty and told to shoot after the biggest fucking wars humanity ever saw, just after he was stuck in this City where he couldn’t have anything he wanted and didn’t return by the time he would’ve been called by his real name and not the one that wasn’t his, and then he was killed or he deserted or God knows what and all Albert had now was shitty tasteless coffee, suits in all shades of grey and memories he wasn’t supposed to think about. 

He sighed and emptied his cup. 

He should talk to Maria or the Director about caffeine.

The interrogation rooms were just as pure white as everything else, a stark contrast to the person in roughly their early twenties, brown hair somehow managing to be a bright beacon, the blue streak in it shining stronger than the artificial sun that was inside the City, his jacket--Dad’s jacket, it was Dad’s jacket, the dumbass had kept it, he kept it, holy fuck--but what if this wasn’t him and was just someone who stole the jacket?--his jacket green and worn and looking so comfortable, better than these shitty suits and the amount of colour on this one person was so much Albert was about to burst into tears.

He was probably frozen in one place for about a minute now, eyes wandering along the patches and pins on the jacket, of colours and flags he had almost forgotten about, of explosions and colours so much like the poems that people kept finding spray-painted on the walls or were posted at random intervals in the local paper, signed with only ‘Garfield’. 

He kept his tears in through sheer force of will. 

By then he had no doubt that this was Garfie, his little brother, the one thing whose absence left a bigger hole in his heart than anything else. Small, sweet Garfie wondering their town looking like a time traveller who tried to wear all the fashion of the 1900s at once and buying up half the sweetshop. _His_ Garfie, not anyone else who might have had a similar facial structure and jacket. 

The thing that confirmed it was the piece of text on the back of his jacket reflecting in the mirror behind Cherri Cola, saying ‘Angels made from neon and fucking garbage’. He remembered that poem. He remembered that poem so clearly it hurt.

It was written for him, back when bitter coffee and cherry cola and sunsets and rooftops and promises were still real. 

Bits and pieces of it came back to him every now and then hitting him in the middle of work, or meetings, or the commute, because of random tiny details that struck him just right. 

_“You turn this world too grey to try and live in neon. We may be made of pieces of trash found by the side of the road, but we shine with an intensity too unstable for this plane of existence. You guide me, and I hope I guide you in return. We’re the angels that might just change the world.”_

This little boy, filled with so much hope and hopelessness, losing an arm? His guiding light, his one true compass, gone for so long? How could he let this happen?

Were they both off track?

Or was it just Albert, stuck in a world too grey to try and live in, literally?

“Garfield?” He said, voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

Cherri Cola looked up from the ground where he was firmly staring at all this time, wondering when this new arrival in the same grey suit as all the others will start to torture him or try and take him to be Reassigned.

“Al?”

“Jay, remove auditory input. It’s interfering with my interrogation technique,” he muttered into his earpiece. Jay snickered.

“Korse won’t be happy.”

“Korse can go-” Auditory input still on, right. “I outrank him. I also outrank you. Jay, I’ll get Maria to test some prototype Mask-Faces on you and make you go numb for a day and a half if you don’t do this.”

“Yes, sir,” Jay said. Albert could hear them grinning.

The microphone in the room turned off. 

Albert sighed.

“Well, with that out of the way...kiddo, where have you fucking been?”

“Where do you think, Pancakes? The Zones,” grinned Garfield--no, Cherri Cola, Albert knew killjoys didn’t like using their old names, and this wasn’t that different than getting used to Garfield, was it really?

“Kiddo…”

“Cherri Cola, the second-best sharpshooter in Zones East Five to South Six, at your service. In the City system in a way I’d rather not be, and brother to someone who apparently forgot my poems I wrote for ‘im.”

“Okay. Cherri Cola. I’m going to ignore you stole my favourite drink for your name, dumbass,” _and the fact that you’re the second-best sharpshooter in nearly half the fucking Zones,_ “and tell you that you’re not in the City system anymore. I deleted you the moment you were declared gone. Didn’t want that to be the last thing to remember you.”

“First of all, Albert, it was my favourite too, and second, aren’t you breaking like a million rules by talking to me like this?”

“Of course I am,” Albert said, and God, he really was, wasn’t he? “But you’re worth it, neon angel. That was a favourite mental image of yours, huh?”

“Yup. Turns out, Alicia from my twelfth year Chem class stole that name by the time I was outta here. Went with the next-best thing that reminded me of you.”

And what else could Albert do after that declaration apart from stand there and try very very hard not to burst into tears so he wouldn’t get demoted immediately?

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Cherry grumbled, a lot less annoyed than he should’ve been (probably, six years of City living made distinguishing emotions a little hard).

“I’m not letting you kill the people tasked with keeping you in the cell, so this was the next best thing.”

They were staring at Albert’s portable Holo-Screen, currently filled with clothes, all in different shades of grey.

“I miss th’ Zones already. It’s barely been a day and ’m already going crazy. I've agreed to let you get me monochrome clothes and dye over my blue streak, th’ streak that’s there b’cos of radiation, by the way, you can’t even remove it.”

“Gar-”

“And I’m having to be called Gary. Gary! My name is Garfield, thank you very much, if it can’t be Cherri Cola. Your list of approved names is terrible, Levko.”

“Take it up with the Director and hope you keep your memories intact,” Albert said, barely paying attention. This was just like talking to Maria’s girlfriend, who was leading some kind of internal revolution that she assured Albert had nothing to do with the buildings, they were neater than any old city from Before, but more to do with the leadership. Albert supposed he was leadership in a way, too, but so was Maria. So was everyone who wasn’t on the Medication. “Whatd’ya think of this?”

“It’s grey.”

“It’s all grey, I hate grey too, I wish we could wear colour, maybe a hundred people would see it, tops, it would be so much better, but no, we have to dress in grey like everyone else! So suck it up, you’ve only been here for two days, I’ve been here for six years. There’s no real coffee,” and I kind of hate it, “And I’m tempted to get Maria to make me and you cherry coke as a challenge, look what you’ve done to me.”

“What can I say, Pancakes, I’m your compass.”

“Shut it and choose a fucking suit.”

“Promise you’ll keep Dad’s jacket?”

“Promise. Anyways, wanna help Jay hack into the database and pretend you were an old Citizen with high enough rank to not need Medication?”

It had been...three days. Cherri had been in here for three days, pretending he was Gary Levko, and what a stupid name Gary was, maybe he shouldn’t have chosen Garfield when he was fifteen, and he was already insane. The memory of the Zones, memory of the last six years, was fading at a ridiculous speed, faster than he thought was possible. Fuck.

It had been four days. Cherri was getting used to this. Al still called him Garfie or Cherry Bomb, he got to wear his jacket in the flat where the cameras were ‘faulty’, and Maria’s girlfriend, Francie, was the coolest person ever. She ran a secret society inside the City and Cherri was already an honorary member. 

It had been five days. This was getting disconcerting. Really disconcerting. On the plus side, he made friends with two Droids who were working on developing a child for themselves. Had he mentioned that Al’s friends had the coolest friends ever?

It had been six days. Cherri had a job. A job. A honest-to-Witch nine-to-five job.

It had been seven days. No contact from Pony, who was supposed to be in here somewhere on spy duty these days. He missed Pony. And D. And Newsie. Witch, Al didn’t even know about Newsie, did he? He told Al that Newsie was the only person he’d take to the rooftop platonically, and pretended to not see Al trying not to cry.

It had been eight days. Cherri ended up visiting the Lobby, finally, on the first meeting of the Orange Roses he was around to witness. He introduced himself as Gary Levko, formerly Cherri Cola from WKIL. Some of them asked for an autograph. He had to recreate a Poetry Corner right there, with the only poems he had the ones in his head and the fragments in his jacket. 

It had been ten days. Cherri spent all yesterday not even thinking about the Zones. 

It had been a month. Gary Levko, occasionally called Garfield by his friends, was promoted to Head Literature Creator. He was in a secret society that met once a month in the Lobby, lived with his brother and had most of his friends in Science or Marketing. He had an irrational fear of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws and Exterminators, and had a panic attack when he saw Korse. He got prescribed some specific Medication for that, Maria ensuring him that it wouldn’t interfere with his ‘creative process’. It wasn’t creative. Gary didn’t care.

It had been a month. Albert joined the secret society the day Garfie was promoted. He met more and more of Maria’s girlfriend’s friends and listened to WKIL. He wondered why Garfie never talked about NewsAGoGo or Dr Death-Defying or Hot Chimp or Show Pony, who was off on...a mission in the City??

It had been a month and two weeks. Maria had recreated the Cherry Coke recipe. He and Garfie sat up on the second-highest building in the City and enjoyed the view. There wasn’t a sunset, just a gradual darkening, but it was the closest they got.

It had been two months. Albert was slowly losing his mind. Every time he saw Garfie--he asked Albert to stop calling him Cherri a few weeks ago, as it ‘brought too much attention’--he remembered Before. Every time he took Garfie’s jacket when he was asleep and tried it on, he longed for the Zones in a way he didn’t know he could long for a place he’s never been in.

It had been two months and one day. Albert decided to do something rash, job and friends and the new expansion that was starting in three days be damned.

He had told Garfie the day he moved in that if he caused Albert to get in trouble he’d either nearly kill him and make it look like an accident or he’d make Garfie buy Albert the coolest jacket in the Zones, the jury was still out.

It was very much looking like he was going to need the fancy jacket now. 

The Lobby was a strange place. The most colourful of the City, and still everything was so pale, apart from the Droids. (They were designed to keep the elite company for the most part, so they got a little colour, but even the amount of them in the Lobby was nothing to the day he first saw Garfie as Cherri Cola.) Everyone was just casually taking the Emote-Sweets, for the feeling or the taste, who knew, and Albert was very out of his depth in his Higher-Up-style grey suit, wishing he'd brought Dad's--Cherri's--Garfie's--jacket at least.

Still, when he saw Show Pony in there, he felt relief--God knows how long ago he felt relief--if he was a little intimidated by the colours on aer. Ae could fit right in with any of the workers in aer normal grey clothes, Albert’s even seen aem around in the office, but right now...it was clear ae was a killjoy through and through.

“Show Pony,” he nodded curtly. Aer mouth split into a grin.

“Aw, sugar, stop being so serious. Call me Pony.You wanna come t’ the Zones with me, you gotta learn to let loose. I’m leavin’ in a few revolutions of y’r artificial sun, gotta finish a few things first. I’ll let ya know through a note or Francie or somethin’. What’s y’r name, by the way? I know it ain’t important out there, but I gotta know who t’ send the message to. ‘That guy in designing’ ain't gonna be much help to me, darlin’.”

“Albert Levko.”

Pony stopped short.

“Y’r one of th’ Levkos? The other’s so serious and adjusted, I’d never think his brother’d leave like this.” And _wow_ , that made Albert’s heart ache. The way the Zone spirit just fell out of Garfie over time was kind of horrifying, but he was paralyzed by fear of losing his job until now. “Wait…” Pony snapped aer fingers. “Aren’t ya that guy who freakin’ designed this whole City?”

“Uh...maybe.”

“Dude, y’r really good at making things have zero creativity. Good to know we converted you. We’ve had a few higher-up Batt Rats before, but nothing above a ‘Crow anytime recently. Nobody who’s Meds-less in ages. I gotta tell D we have a Batt celeb in our arms. Ya know the Director, too, perchance?”

“Uh. Yeah,” Albert said uncomfortably. “She’s kind of a pain, to be honest.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Pony grinned. “Anyways, I was wondering if you’d know anything about a prisoner captured a month, two ago? Guy with a blue streak and a metal arm? A well-bred Killjoy, second-best sharpshooter in half the Zones. We miss ‘im. Heard ‘e held an impromptu Poetry Corner ‘round here, but wasn’t seen again.”

Albert’s stomach seemed to fill with ice.

“Cherri Cola,” he said numbly. “You’re...you came here looking for him.” 

“Yeah. Y’know where he might be? In a cell somewhere? I’ve never had this much trouble locating a guy before.”

Albert laughed bitterly. “Good luck with that.”

“You know where he is. Tell me, or you’re not going anywhere, mister.”

“He's not a prisoner.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s working at Better Living Industries, as Head Better Living-Approved Literature Creator. Goes by Gary Levko nowadays.”

Pony looked sick and ae all but collapsed collapsed on the closest fluffy sofa. 

“You’re telling me your brother, HLC and the best at the job, already having created several children’s book chock-full of BL/i propaganda is actually Cherri Cola,” Pony said weakly.

“Unfortunately.” Albert was starting to feel sick himself. How had he let this happen? He was a terrible compass. At least Cherri’s colourful appearance helped him snap out of the trance he seemed to have been for the last six years. Six years, holy fuck. It had taken him that long. 

“It’s all my fault, Pony. I’m sorry. I could’ve stopped him, smuggled him out right at the start when he wasn’t caught by the City’s spell, but I was so stupid, so narcissictic, so caught up in my own career and not wanting to lose the life I built up over here, I convinced him that staying in the City for a while, with his brother, where it would be easier for his friends to find him, was better. I’m so sorry. 

“He was my guiding light before we were separated, and he changed so much and changed me again for the better, but I think I changed him too. For the worse. I don’t know how I could’ve let this happen, but I started the process, and let the magic of the City finish it for me. It’s strange, he wasn’t even on the Medication, I don’t know how it could've happened this fast…”

He jumped up, clapping a hand to his forehead and then falling back immediately, cradling his face in his hands.

“What _is_ it, Levko?”

“He was on Medication after a while. He got prescribed some after he went into a full-on panic attack after seeing Korse. Several times. It wasn’t supposed to be a strong dose, but apparently I underestimated the Director yet again.”

Pony’s face was stony while he talked, but a flicker of something crossed it now.

“He...y'remember the Fabulous Four? The Girl?”

“The big fiasco with some kid captured by Korse and those four Killjoys dying but the kid leaving a year or two after the City was formed? I think the Director was involved personally, but I wasn’t that high-up back then. Just heard it in the news.”

“Cherri was with them, it wasn’t mentioned in the news because BL/i didn’t want the public to know someone escaped. He watched them all die, barely escaped with the Girl,” Pony spat. Me an’ D an Chimp were in the van that escaped. I’ve seen many a good friend die, but sprawled on eir car moments away from victory? Damn, that fucked me up too, and I wasn’t even close to that lot. Cherri was. They were just out of their teens, a few years younger than Cherri. Korse personally killed two of them. One of them was Cherri’s boyfriend at the time.”

“Well fuck.” 

“About right.”

“Fuck, fuck, fukcfuckfuck. This is so bad, why did I let this happen?”

“Dunno, man. I think you should take me to Ch-Gary, though. I might not have to return empty-handed, and Newsie won’t even strangle me. You, though, sugar? I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Albert exhaled. 

“Ooookay. Garfie isn’t working today, mandatory rest for half of the Higher-Ups. Tomorrow we’ll have to lie low, but after that it’s weekend and we can move if we manage to get him to come with us.”

“And if not?” Pony’s voice was uncharacteristically small. 

Albert let out a long breath. “I’m not staying here for any longer than I should. If it all goes to shit, I’m stealing his--Dad’s--jacket and pretend I don’t see the stitching on the back every morning. You knew he wrote that poem for me? It was the shortest poem he ever wrote, I think, but I’d remember every word even if it was a hundred pages long.”

A ghost of a smile seemed to rest on Pony’s face.

_“‘You turn this world too grey to try and live in neon?’”_

Albert smiled and nodded.

_“‘We may be made of pieces of trash found by the side of the road, but we shine with an intensity too unstable for this plane of existence.’”_

_“‘You’re my guiding light, and I hope I guide you in return. We’re the angels that might just change the world.’_ This was the first poem he ever told on his Poetry Corner. He only said it twice on air after that. Once a few months into dating Kobra, and the day before they came for Andromeda. _‘This poem is one I wrote years and years ago, back when Cherry Cola was still just the name of a drink and sunsets and rooftops and sneaking a little brightness into a boring world were all that mattered,’_ he said before reading it. _‘I’m dedicating it to two people this time ‘round instead of one. One’s my brother, the one who I wrote this for, and the other is for my guiding light, my compass, the best racer in the Zones. Kobra, I hope you’re listening. Al, if you hear this by some miracle, I hope you’re okay. Love, Garfie.’”_

For the first time in years, Albert didn’t have to pretend to not be misty-eyed and he collapsed into Pony who hugged him and there they stayed for a moment that lasted an eternity.

“Let’s get Cherri back, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Garfie, I’m home!”

“Hi, Al," Garfie said, not even looking up from oiling his arm. "I’m afraid I drank all of your Coke reserves, should I talk to Maria for more?”

“Oh, ‘Stroya, ‘e’s saying all the vow'ls!” Pony whispered. Albert nodded. 

“Yeah, he started a bit ago. It’s kinda disconcerting, t’be honest.”

“I see you’re picking the Zone way o’ speaking up, though, hon.”

“You’re...right? Wow.”

“Who are you talking to, Al? I wanna meet them. You finally brought a girlfriend home?”

“I’m...aroacearoace, Garf, remember?”

“The name Sarah Chrome mean anything to you? Neon yellow lipstick jog any memories?” Garfie was clearly grinning, and Al turned beetroot red.

“We all make mistakes, including you. Do I need to tell Pony about your unfortunate endeavors with Stephanie Rogers involving several dozen Captain America figurines, an angry skunk and a box of chocolates?”

“I wanna know,” Pony whispered, grinning, just as Garfie looked up, frowning.

“Pony isn’t a City-issued name…” He saw Pony and stopped short.

“Al, I know you have a tendency to be rebellious, hell, so do I, but a Killjoy?”

Pony was frozen to the spot.

“Cherri?” ae asked softly. “What did they do to you?”

Garfie cleared his throat.

“G-Gary Levko, around here," he said after some hesitation. "If we’re friends, Garfield. Do I-do I know you?”

“Cherri...I’ve been one’a y’r best friends for three years.”

Garfie grimaced and shivered, reaching for his Medication. Al gently took it from him and ignored his unspoken protests. After the few seconds of withdrawal shivers have passed, Garfie blinked.

“Pony, listen, I-” He nearly ran that few steps and buried his face in Pony’s chest.

“I missed you so much, okay? I miss the radio station, I miss D, I miss Newsie, I miss Chimp, I miss so much things. I miss Before, I miss being brothers with Al the way we used to be, I miss wearing waistcoats with neon yellow crop tops, I miss Poison I miss Jet and Ghoul and I miss Kobra so much it hurts. But I have a thing going on here. It’s…”

“It’s worth losing something you don’t have to lose for once? Worth throwing six years away for...what? I understand Al not wanting to leave when you came, he’d been here for six years, but you? Cherri, you’ve been here for two months.”

“Only two months? Seems longer, somehow. Listen, Pony,” Garfie said, except his eyes shone in the way Al hadn’t seen since Garfie hadn’t been Gary at all, until the day he met Cherri two months ago. This was Cherri, a hundred percent. 

“I can’t...control this anymore. I’m not strong enough now. I know I said I’d never give up, so many times, but I can’t fight this anymore. I’m not sure how much longer I can talk before fucking...collapsing or whatever, but you gotta listen to me, Pony. I can’t do this. I knew I’d never make it to thirty, being a Killjoy, but twenty-six’s pretty good, don’tcha think? I loved the Corner and WKIL and the Zones with all my heart, but it was getting so much. I was so close to turning myself in, you know. I was terrified of losing my memories, the pleasant ones, the ones of you an’ D an’ Newsie an’ Kobra an’ all the others, that’s all that’s stopped me. I was a few miles away when I realised that I'd lose all o' that and stopped. Flare still caught me, though.," he said, smiling grimly. Pony was silent.

"I'm not even addicted to the Medication. Maria was correct, it has no side effects of that area. I genuinely...well, not _like_ it here, but the calm and boringness of it is kind of fun. I-I can't take being a Killjoy anymore. I...I never thought I'd just give up, but...here we are," he shrugged. "I love you, okay? And I love the Zones and the people out there who still keep on fighting. But after six years of wars and figuring the elements and fighting the City gets too much. The nightmares, the deaths of friends both old and new, the fear even in the apparent peace that some crazy gang will start it all over again, the hunger, the heat...I wasn't born for this, Pony. It's a miracle I survived this long.

“You know where my mask is. Take it to the ‘box. You know which one. The-the one where Sugarplum’s and Kobra’s and all the others’ is. Give D an’ Chimp a hug and Newsie a kiss on the cheek from me. And take these,” Cherri said, handing Pony a bunch of papers connected with a bit of string. “Add them to the manuscript by my mask. Take them too. I...I promised to write Kobra a letter if I survived. I did it. It’s mostly just repeating ‘I miss you so much’, with a poem or two thrown in, and happenings. I wrote some every day. This is the ones I did while here, plus a week before. I’ve always kept them in Dad’s jacket. I hope the Witch'll give them to him. I...I’m so sorry, Pony. But Cherri Cola dies right here. Should I help you escape? Kill him in action? I’d like to see the desert once more. Just once more.”

Pony was crying and nodding, aer makeup smearing into Cherri’s hair, and Al was crying too, even though he only knew Cherri for a week or two, and only a few days in his full shine. He knew this was where Garfield Levko ended forever along with Cherri Cola, too. No more artificial cherries and sunsets, no more chances to get out to the Zones together, no more cigarette smoke mixing with bitter coffee and sugary energy drinks, no more poems like lightning bolts, brightening boring and confusing days like a beacon. 

Then again, he supposed, that Garfie had been killed six years ago in the Wars, and destroyed more and more with each moment Cherri spent in the Zones, through all that shit Al couldn't even imagine. His brother had always been strong, but this…

(Somehow it didn't deter him, though. Who knew his hatred of the Zones was so strong nowadays?)

“Goodbye, supernova,” he whispered.

“I always figured I’d go out with a bang, you know,” Cherri muttered. “Turns out I’ll fade away. It used to be my biggest fear. Still, at least this way Cherri Cola will remain a legend long after Gary Levko dies.”

“You gon’ get Reassigned after we go?”

“No way. I-I couldn’t. I need to remember you, Pancakes."

"Y'think the expansion will halt f'r a bit if the Chief Designer leaves a day before it starts?"

“I hope so,” Al said, manouvering the other two to the couch instead of standing in the corridor. Cherri sat down between them, and leaned towards Pony, gently playing with aer hair.

“Al?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know tha, right? Don’t forget it, neon angel. My guiding light who I can’t follow any more. Take Dad’s jacket. Take my name too, ‘f you want. Don’t care anymore. You’ll be a better Cherri Cola.”

“I can’t write poetry.”

“You don’t wanna be Bacon Pringles, do you?”

Al grinned weakly.

"We'll see, Garfield."

"Have fun in the Zones, Pancakes. You leavin' tomorrow?"

"Day after. Less suspicious."

"Okay, I need to be in one last clap before retiring, anyone wanna steal me my raygun back? I'll be damned if I use a fresh, white one."

"You an' Pony can go. I'm not making my first fight against my employer about my brother's gun, that's stupid."

"Aw, love you too, Pancakes. Be back in ten."

"Twenty, hon. You don't even know where it is."

"But you do,” Cherri gronned, and Pony did, too, if still a little weakly.

"I missed you, Cher."

"Keep on missing me after you leave, okay?"

"Won't stop f'r a second, love."

The next day was both great and pure hell, somehow. It was nerve-wracking and boring all morning, but it got a little better afterwards. All the work Al had to do was a bit of last-minute organisation which was ridiculously easy to fuck up very subtly so it was barely noticeable. After that he spent all day at ~~home~~ his flat with Cherri and Pony, listening to them banter with the ease of someone you’ve known for years. After a while he was dragged into it too, and soon they were sitting on the roof again, with a new batch of Maria’s Cherry Coke, swapping stories about Cherri while he was getting slowly but steadily more and more touchy. Garfie was never this huggish, except for the day before leaving.

The day stopped being nice after that realisation.

They went to see Maria, Francie, Oliver, Red, Blue, Kiddo, Orange, and a bunch of other people in the Lobby. There was something vaguely resembling a party, but it wasn’t as fun. Al drank way more Cherry Coke than ever. It didn’t bring the same feeling back anymore.

He barely slept, his City-issued bed suddenly too uncomfortable. He knew he’d have to sleep rough in the Zones, and that he should enjoy it, but the artificial comfortableness made his skin crawl and he ended up falling asleep on the floor at 3am after a long conversation with Cherri, who also couldn’t sleep, about nothing in particular, about the best place to buy makeup in the Zones and how Kiddo was growing so fast, and Al’s secret cigarette hiding place, and Newsie and Alex, who’d got demoted before Cherri could’ve met him, and more and more topics that were nearly about the issue at hand, about tomorrow, and how they’d never see each other again, but just not. Al got a kiss on the cheek from him for the first time in ten years before he went to sleep.

He woke up with more tears on his face that he fell asleep with. 

“You better paint that fucking raygun once you go out, future Cherri,” Cherri said, and Al rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna be Bacon Pringles, remember? Or Coffee Pancakes or somethin’.”

“Love you, idiot.”

“Love you too.”

“Don’t die, okay? Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Same goes to you. I wanna give a chance for Gary Levko to live his dreams.”

“Strange how I’ve been three different people and yet I’m still me, huh?” his brother asked.

“You’ve changed a lot.”

“So’ve you, Pancakes, actually. Y’don’t see it, I think, but you’ve grown up.”

“So’ve you, Garfie. I’m sorry I wasn’t around that much.”

“You weren’t ready for the Zones,” Cherri said, standing up and stretching. “Man, I gotta make this clap count, huh?”

“I gotta too, remember? First time, if I fuck it up Pony’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Don’t stay too far from them, okay? I’ve been with a lotta tough crowds and WKIL is legit. Trust me. Keep your carbons close, don’t hesitate to steal from Tommy. Go to concerts, they’re worth it. Don’t waveride. Ever. Always make sure you have water and gas before going on runs. Never have a gun without charges. Have fun, Levko.”

“Don’t stray too far from the friend group you have right now. If you can’t imagine them in the Lobby, don’t get too close. Be careful with the Director. If you move, disable all the cameras carefully. Maria’ll help you. Be careful with the stuff Maria and Oliver are developing. Take the prototype testing options, though. Don’t talk to Korse or Dracs. Ever. Actually, don’t talk to anyone if you can help it. Take the drive in the third cupboard from the top. It’s music that’s undetectable. Have fun, Levko,” Al repeated, a smile dancing in the corner of his mouth.

“Pony’s at the rendezvous point, right?”

“Yup.”

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Cherri hugged him close one last time.

“Goodbye, Al,” he whispered. “Keep running.”

“Bye, Garfie,” Al whispered back. “Now, are we doing this or what.”

All in all, the fight went pretty well for what the usual for in-City claps was. Pony was right on time with aer car, Al shot quite a few ~~people~~ Dracs and they nearly got out perfectly. 

Right until the exit tunnel where the car nearly exploded. 

And guess which ‘Crow was there?

Korse. Of course. (Ha, of Korse.)

“Stay back, Cherri. I can’t let you be seen,” Al whispered urgently.

“I got it covered. Tie me up, Pony.”

Pony nodded grimly and tied Cherri up just like if he were a hostage. 

“Didn’t you guys think of telling me about this plan?”

“Nope,” Cherri said, grinning. “Here’s Dad’s jacket. Take care of it. My gun should die in the Zones. Take it.”

“But you wanted to see the desert one last time…”

“Sometimes things just don’t work out, Pancakes. Enjoy the Zones.”

“Bye, Cherry Bomb,” Pony said, voice thick with tears. Ae pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and shoved him roughly out of the car after putting aer ‘mask’ on, pressing aer pink gun to Cherri’s head.

“You let us leave or your best Literature Creator, with the most authentic propaganda this City has ever seen will die.”

“We can replace him,” Korse sneered.

“You sure?”

Korse talked into his earpiece, directly going to the Lead Marketising Agent, who happened to be Francie for a few seconds, and sighed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he muttered. “Keep running.”

Pony grinned and gently placed Cherri at Korse’s feet and got back into the battered car.

Al always knew the city had a lot of his soul, but he didn’t think he’d feel like he’s left so much of it behind when the ancient Trans Am he remembered seeing on the news five years ago turned out to the desert.

Maybe it was the sudden heat, or the colour he was so used to not seeing he almost forgot.

Maybe it was the sky. 

Maybe it was the fact that he knew he’d never see Maria or Francie or Oliver again. Or Red or Blue or Orange, that he’d never know who Kiddo would grow up to be.

Maybe it was knowing that Garfie was fully dead this time around.

Maybe it was the loss of the purpose he had for six years.

Maybe it was all of them.

**Author's Note:**

> suggest a killjoys name for al bc im not naming him bacon pringles and newsie would kill him if he started going by cherri cola
> 
> might continue this universe might not so uh. be on the lookout if this vibed! my largely dust-gathering tumblr is moonlight-explosion, but i surface from the swamp occasionally so. yeh ! thanks for reading ~~i used to hate this when i was just reading but ngl i really Do thrive on comments so. h i? :pleading_face:~~


End file.
